


Checking In

by Just_Absolutely_Super



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Canon Compliant, Evans Family Headcanons, F/M, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Language, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Protective Older Brothers, Very Mild SoMa, Wes can be comedically dramatic, and Soul is a little shit to his big brother, headcanons, probably more than mild, what i mean is there's some F bombs thrown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Absolutely_Super/pseuds/Just_Absolutely_Super
Summary: Wes likes for Soul to check in every now and then.
Relationships: Maka Albarn & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans, Soul Eater Evans & Wes Evans
Comments: 66
Kudos: 257





	1. Introduction and Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohkubo didn't want to dwell too much on Soul's past or his brother so I gotta do it myself gosh dangit!
> 
> Considering said neglect of the main character's past, this fanfic will mostly be headcanon-based more than anything. I tried to make it as canon-compliant as I could though, but in the end it may not be because as far as I know, it's unknown if Soul was ever in contact with the Evans family after he joined the DWMA. Despite this, I love the doting older brother trope and decided to just give this type of personality to Wes Evans. If you don't agree with my interpretation that's okay, I don't care. This is written purely for my own amusement.
> 
> This was also supposed to be a oneshot, however, with so much I wanted to put into this fanfic I figured it'd be easier to divide each part into it's own chapter so it's better organized. This won't be a very long fanfic, so don't worry about whether it'll stay forever incomplete or not. The fanfic itself is almost halfway done anyway as of this author's note.
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoy!

**Timeline:** 2 years before the events of the series proper (1 year before Not!)

* * *

"Are you settling in okay?"

Soul rolled his eyes as he continued to unpack his boxes in his and Maka's new apartment. His brother could sound like _such_ a mother hen sometimes. So not cool…

"Yes Wes, I'm _fine_ , I promise."

He could hear Wes chuckling on the other side of the line, "I know, I know. It's just strange for you to be there and not here at home. And you're on your own too…"

"M'not alone," Soul muttered, "I got Maka."

"Oh, right, the meister girl you told me about. That's another thing that's strange to me; that this school would allow a couple of 12 year olds to live freely together. Are you sure that's okay?"

Soul shrugged though he knew his brother wouldn't be able to see it. "Death City's kind of a league of its own. They're very liberal here. It's pretty cool, and Maka seems to be good at the whole budgeting thing, so we're not gonna go broke or anything."

At least, he _hoped_ they wouldn't go broke…

"Well if you need any help financially you still have your savings account."

"Yeah, yeah." Soul said, not wanting to say too much lest someone happen to overhear this conversation (despite the fact he was alone in the apartment) and put two and two together that Soul Eater was, in fact, an Evans and therefore _loaded_.

"And since you're living with a girl, I better hope you treat her with respect like the gentleman I know you are."

Soul rolled his eyes, "Please, Maka's _barely_ a girl. She brains me with _books_ on a daily basis."

"Right… I'll remember this conversation when puberty hits and you're calling asking me how to woo a girl."

Soul squeaked as his cheeks turned red, "Wes you piece of shit it's _not like that at all_! She's just my partner. It-It's strictly professional! Besides, she's as flat as a board! Who'd want someone with so little sex appeal?!"

He couldn't see him but Soul _knew_ Wes was giving him that smug smirk of his. How Soul wished they were in person so he could punch that smirk off his brother's face!

"Fine, fine, you and your _meister_ are not—nor will you ever be— _'like that'_. I won't say anything else on the matter—"

"Good!"

"For now at least," aaand there's that smirk Soul _swore_ his brother was wearing. Ugh!

"Are we done here? I gotta finish unpacking and setting my room up."

"Okay, I'll let you go now." Wes said, though a bit reluctantly. "I would like you to promise me something though."

Soul raised an eyebrow, a little unsure about what exactly his brother wanted of him, "What is it?"

"Can you promise me you'll call and check in every now and then? I know you're gonna be busy learning about being a weapon and fighting monsters and all that supernatural stuff, but if you could find time to call me I would really appreciate it."

Soul blinked at the request and frowned. It wasn't an _impossible_ request, quite reasonable actually. But something held him back. The reason he joined the DWMA was so he could break off ties to his family name. If he kept up with Wes…was that, in a way, hanging onto his past?

He didn't like the idea of abandoning his brother like that but still…he didn't want to be reminded of his constant failures and inadequacies.

"Soul? You still there?"

Soul blinked out of his reverie and hastily said, "Yeah, sure, okay, I'll try my best. I gotta go now, bye."

He was about to press the button to end the call before he heard Wes's last words.

"Bye Soul, I'll talk to you later! Love you!"

He cringed as he slammed his finger down on the red button. His brother was _so uncool_ sometimes! He was pretty sure he did it on purpose too!

"I'm back!" he heard Maka calling from the front door. After some shuffling around she popped her head into Soul's room. "Oh, you're still unpacking? Do you need any help?"

Soul shook his head, "Nah, I got it. I just got distracted for a bit."

Seeing as his phone was still in his hand she raised an eyebrow at it, "Oh? Were you on the phone with someone? Anything important?"

Soul stared at her. He'd only known Maka for a few days. He wasn't comfortable sharing with her about his life before Death City just yet.

It's debatable if he'll _ever_ be comfortable enough to tell her…

For now he put his phone away and continued to unpack as he said to her, "Nah, it's nothing…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia:
> 
> 1\. Since I got into SE in '08-09, I'm stuck forever thinking the series actually takes place in 2009. This doesn't effect the fanfic in any way except I imagine Soul and Wes are still using flip phones to talk to each other. I make the phones ambiguous enough to where people reading this can imagine they're using iPhones though.
> 
> 2\. A little clarification on the timeline:
> 
> Soul Eater's timeline is a little hard for me to grasp, but I tried working with what information I had. According to the Wiki, Soul Eater Not! takes place about a year before the main series. Ohkubo made a tweet saying that Soul's age throughout the series (most likely including Not!) is 13-15. So for reference's sake, Soul is 13 in Not!, 14 at the beginning of SE, and 15 at the end of SE. In Not! he and Maka appear to have a good amount of experience under their belt, so I'm presuming they've been partners for about a year, making Soul roughly 12 years old when he joined the DWMA. (Maka is supposed to be 13 during SE, meaning she's a few months younger than Soul at best. I referred to her as a 12 year old in this chapter just because it's easier and I bet Soul wouldn't have bothered correcting his brother on his partner's younger age).
> 
> At the beginning of future chapters I will put when each chapter is supposed to take place in SE's timeline. You guys can figure up ages from there.
> 
> Anyways, hope you liked this. Please review if you did!


	2. Privacy and Payphones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic is only a day old so it hasn't gotten a huge response, but I still appreciate any attention it has gotten so far. Thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy each installment of this mini-series.

**Timeline:** Roughly a year and a half before the series proper (roughly half a year before Not!)

* * *

Soul took Wes's request of calling "every now and then" quite literally.

Meaning he only called once a month. Twice a month if Wes was lucky or there was a birthday in the family (and usually then Soul would just shoot a quick text telling Wes to tell said family member "happy birthday" from him).

Another thing was _how_ Soul called him. He hardly ever used his cell phone.

While Soul's meister meant well, Maka tended to be…how should Soul put it...? Freaking _nosy_!

She was always asking questions. Some questions weren't that bad (What's your favorite food? Do you prefer to shower in the mornings or at night? Did you really just google how to iron your clothes?), but other questions—the more personal ones—were annoying.

It took Maka asking for the third time in a day about his family for Soul to snap and tell her he didn't want to talk about it. It had led to an argument (something the two were getting quite good at) and slamming of doors; but after the cool-down, Soul admitted he didn't like talking about his past or his family. Maka apologized for bothering him and dropped the personal questions altogether.

Despite this, she still _tried_ to get to know him on a more personal level, and that meant trying to innocently listen in on his phone calls to Wes.

Not wanting to chance Maka's attempts at eavesdropping to succeed, Soul took matters into his own hands.

During one of his monthly calls, he left the apartment with some excuse as to where he was going before proceeding to go down a couple of blocks to a payphone.

After digging into his pocket for the right amount of change, Soul paid for his call and punched in Wes's phone number that he (as much as he hated to admit it) knew by heart.

He sat there listening to the ringer for some time. Soul frowned. Normally Wes picked up on the third ring. Was he busy? Did he have a concert? He didn't mention a concert last time they talked but then again Soul made it clear he did _not_ want to talk about music with Wes during these phone calls.

He was about to hang up and try again the next day when he finally heard his brother's voice.

"Hello?" Wes greeted. There was a strange, untrusting edge to his voice that Soul was not used to hearing from his older brother.

"Hey, 'sup?"

"Soul?" Wes asked, surprise lacing his voice. Soul raised an eyebrow at the receiver. Who else would be calling him?

"Uh, yeah? Of course it's me. Who else?"

"I'm sorry, the number was one I didn't recognize. I almost didn't pick up, thinking it was a prank call or something."

Oh, well that made sense. Soul felt embarrassed and rubbed the back of his head, not knowing how to proceed from here.

"What phone are you using? Is it a landline?"

"Not…exactly." Soul said slowly, "It's a payphone actually."

"A payphone? Why are you using a payphone? Why aren't you using your cell phone?" Wes asked.

Because his meister could be a little shit sometimes and Soul was low-key paranoid she'll somehow grab his phone away from him and look through his call history and contacts in order to dig up every dirty little secret he had.

Which seemed like a violent breech of privacy that he felt in his gut Maka would never do but, hey, you never know. Their partnership was still fairly new after all.

Instead he said, "…Personal reasons."

He knew Wes was rolling his eyes after he said that. He tried to fight a grin at the mental image of his brother's exasperated expression as he scolded Soul, "Soul Evans, that phone was a _birthday gift_! I'd like it if you'd use it to call me instead of wasting your change on some random _payphone_."

Now it was Soul's turn to roll his eyes. The way Wes was talking you'd think a payphone was a _commoner's_ way of talking to people. Honestly, while mostly down-to-earth, Wes could be a bit of a snob sometimes.

"It's _vintage_ ," Soul bit back, knowing Wes hated it when Soul acted all "hipster" on him. "Besides, it doesn't matter what I call you on as long as I get through to you, right?"

There was a pause before he heard his older brother heave a long sigh.

"Okay you win… _this time_." And there was his brother's good-natured chuckle, "Now tell me what's been going on before your call ends and you have to use up more change."

And so they talked. Soul and Wes's phone calls were never long (Soul would never allow them to be that way), but the younger of the Evans brothers always managed to fit a month's worth of updates for him.

"I've got 53 souls under my belt. Maka and I are gonna do some extra work in these next few weeks. Hopefully we can make it to 99 by the end of this year."

"I see. Be careful and don't overdo it, now."

"It'll be a piece of cake. After all, you _are_ talking to a future Death Scythe," Soul said cockily.

Wes chuckled at his brother's enthusiasm. "Ah, of course, how could I forget? Well, future Death Scythe, I've got practice in 15 minutes so I better hang up here. Don't work yourself and your little meister too hard, you hear me?"

Soul sighed, "I know, I know, I won't."

"Good. And _please_ call me on your cell phone. That's what it's for."

Soul couldn't help another eye roll, "Okay, okay, _mother_."

The sound of his brother's laughter rang loud through the phone's speaker before he called out, "Bye Soul! Love you!"

Again with his cheesy goodbye… "See ya."

He hung up and steadily made his way back to his and Maka's apartment, stopping by a random magazine kiosk to purchase something so it didn't look like Soul wasted 30 minutes of his time doing nothing in the city.

Maka still questioned him though. "All that time and you just bought a magazine? What else did you do?"

Soul shrugged, "Just went for a walk is all…"

He knew she was frowning at him in that way that told him she didn't approve of his secrets, but he didn't really care right now. He just wanted to shower and go to bed.

Soul would continue to use the payphone for the rest of the year. Not because he was worried about Maka listening in on his conversations or search through his phone (he had gotten rid of that line of thinking the more he got to know her and trust her), but because it _really_ pissed Wes off.

And Soul, being a little brother, _loved_ to piss his big brother off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia:
> 
> 1\. Not sure how many payphones are still in the world, but since Death City is canonically a mismatch of different cultures (including telephone booths) I figured the streets having payphones wasn't a stretch either.
> 
> 2\. What didn't make it into the fic: Wes slowly dying inside because Soul is purposely messing with him by not calling on his cellphone.
> 
> Please leave kudos and review if you enjoyed. Have a nice day!


	3. Secrets and Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left a comment and kudos. I appreciate you!

**Timeline:** During the events of Soul Eater Not! (a year before the series proper)

* * *

Wes was practicing his violin in the Evans family music room when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Despite his instructor's reprimanding glare, Wes quit playing in order to check the caller ID.

It was Soul.

"So sorry, I have to take this." He said with a smile—the one he knew was charming enough to get him out of just about anything. It was effective as the family's music instructor returned his smile and waved him away.

He was grateful for his brother's call. It was getting boring practicing a piece he could play in his sleep over and over again…

Once in the hallway, Wes opened his phone and put the receiver to his ear, "Hey little bro, so glad you called. Decided to do away with the silly payphones and actually call your brother on your cell?"

"WES! HOLY FUCKING _SHIT_!"

Wes reeled back in shock at his brother's frantic scream. What the hell?

"Soul? Are you okay? What's the matter?" he asked, going into protective big brother mode.

"DUDE, YOU WILL NOT _BELIEVE THIS_!"

"Soul, will you calm down and tell me what's wrong?"

He heard his brother take in some deep breaths. After a couple of beats, Soul's voice began speaking—thankfully at a much lower decibel than previously.

"Okay, so you remember a couple of years ago when we were invited to that castle in Scandinavia and mom and dad made me play the piano for the party thing they had going on?"

"Yes, I remember. You and I also performed a duet together."

He was rather shocked. For starters, in the year he and Soul had been conversing never once did his younger brother want to talk about their family nor their music. Wes had an inkling of an idea as to why his brother avoided each topic, but he felt afraid to talk about it with Soul lest it would drive a wedge further into their relationship.

Next was the particular conversation they were having. What brought on this sudden memory of their Scandinavian vacation and the performance at Yngling Castle?

"Yeah, okay, so get this. The princess of that castle, whatever her name was—"

"Princess Anastasia Yngling."

"Yeah, her! Anyways…she's here! At the DWMA!"

Wes's eyes widened. That was juicy information indeed.

"Really? Is she a weapon too?"

"No, meister."

"Huh… Okay then." It's a small world after all, Wes supposed.

"And she recognized me!" Soul continued, his tone taking on that frantic edge again. Then, sheepishly he added, "I admit, I almost lost my cool."

Wes smirked and snickered, "Lost your cool, huh? Why? Thought she was cute? I hope this doesn't cause a love triangle between you, the princess, and your little meister…"

"Fuck off, Wes! I didn't mean like that!" Soul snarled, "I meant I was afraid she'd out me."

"Out you?"

"You know…" Soul trailed off before saying in a smaller voice (as if he was making sure no one would hear him), "As an Evans."

Ah, Wes got it now. He tried not to frown at his brother's confession. He knew how much it meant to Soul that he be as far removed from his family name as possible, hence his strange (yet rather fitting) stage name.

"I see." He said, trying to keep his voice neutral, "Did she?"

"No. Turns out she's made an alias too. She wanted to get away from castle life or whatever, so she came to the DWMA to become a meister. She's in the NOT class."

Wes wasn't sure what exactly a "NOT" was, but that's another question for another day.

"Oh, so you two are quite the birds of a feather then."

He imagined Soul was rolling his eyes as he replied, "She's kind of a brat, actually. And she's super obsessed with this chick she's trying to make her weapon. It's annoying."

Wes raised an eyebrow as he let his grin widen. Oh, let the teasing commence!

"Really, now? Sounds like you two have more in common than you think. Just replace the obsession from weapon to meister and that fits you to a T!"

He laughed loudly at Soul’s indignant sputtering, his little brother threatening to murder and maim him and everything in between.

Oh how he's missed teasing him like this…

"Shut up! I'm hanging up now. Just thought you'd want to know about that." He said, muttering the last sentence before speaking clearly again, "Oh, right, don't tell mom and dad about Anya, though. Just in case this is supposed to be a big secret or whatever. Word spreads fast if they hear about it. You understand, right?"

Wes sobered instantly. Yes, he understood. Just like he understood why Soul didn't want his weapon blood and enrollment at the DWMA to become public. And why Soul never wanted Wes to mention him and his piano playing in social circles. And why Soul would _always_ make Wes promise to never tell their parents any details; so on the rare occasion they _do_ ask about their youngest son, they'll get stiff, one sentence responses from the eldest ( _Yes, he's doing well. No, he isn't doing anything to embarrass the family name. Yes, he knows they have a reputation to uphold._ ).

Wes understood his brother perfectly.

And by extension, he understood this "Anya" girl.

He couldn't help but wonder if she had someone in her life wanting to check up on her despite her need for independence and a drive for purpose. And if so…was she keeping their existence a secret from the new people in her life?

Wes felt a familiar pit in his stomach grow, but pushed aside the feeling. There would be time to dwell on these emotions later in the comfort of his room. Right now, he needed to let Soul know that he could still be someone his little brother could rely on—even if it's about something as silly as a princess in disguise.

"My lips are sealed, little brother."

"Thanks." He said. "Gotta go. See ya."

"Bye Soul. Love you!"

His brother hung up in response.

Wes tried to laugh it off. Any hurt feelings he had were purposely ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out there's gonna be some emotion and angst in this fic. Who'd've thunk?
> 
> Trivia:
> 
> 1\. This chapter is based off of a side story chapter Ohkubo made for volume 4.5 of Soul Eater Not! Sadly, it was never published outside of Japan (because I think it was also a guidebook to the Not! anime?) and, unfortunately, no one in Japan decided to upload the special chapter to the internet for people to translate and bums like me to read it. If you're curious about the contents of the special chapter, there is a summary of it on the Soul Eater Wiki website, titled under Soul Eater Jot 11.
> 
> 2\. This chapter wasn't technically supposed to exist. I had published the first chapter when all of a sudden this scenario hit me square in the eyes. Naturally, I had to write it and add it to the story.
> 
> 3\. I don't really care for Not! and its characters but Anya is probably my favorite of the manga's trio. I actually felt like she had some semblance of a character and wasn't one-dimensional. I think what I like most about her is how she's sort of a parallel to Soul, with both of them being high class kids looking for a change in their life that doesn't have anything to do with their status. I tried to show off that parallel in this chapter.
> 
> 4\. Yes, Wes is a SoMa shipper. You will have to pry that headcanon from my cold, dead HANDS!
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed it!


	4. Worry and Priorities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of where things become more headcanon-based as we go into more depth of the Evans family. Again, if you don't like my interpretation of Soul's family, that's fine. I'm writing this purely for my own amusement and (hopefully) the amusement of others. With that said, I hope you enjoy the next installment!

Wes anxiously moved around his room, going from his closet to his suitcase as he haphazardly threw in clothes, toiletries, and any other accessories he deemed worthy of an impromptu trip to Death City, Nevada. His grandmother was in his doorway, watching him scurry about.

“Wesley, you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? It’s been weeks—no— _months_ since he’s called! And he won’t answer his phone when I’ve tried calling him! Something’s wrong, and I’m going to find out what!” Wes replied, muttering to himself his own mental checklist of what else he could need before he headed off to the airport.

Granny Evans sighed and rolled her copper colored eyes. She loved her grandson, she really did, but his dramatics could get quite bothersome. Even if the source of his worries was valid. She should tell him her little secret; maybe it would put him at ease. After all, had she known her eldest grandson was stewing in months worth of worrying she’d have spilled the beans sooner.

Though this secret was between her and her youngest grandson, she figured Wes suffering an untimely heart attack wouldn’t be worth it…

“Listen, I should tell you that—“

“It doesn’t matter what you say to me, Granny.” Wes said defiantly, “Nothing will stop me from checking on my little brother.”

Her frail hands tightened on her cane. Of course he was going to be stubborn about it. Once Wes got an idea in his head, you were hard-pressed to change his mind. It led to many difficult arguments when he was growing up. Granny Evans still remembered when he found out there was no Santa Claus. The boy was so distraught he convinced himself that his family was lying and they hated him. He holed himself up in his room for three days—the only person allowed in was Soul.

Considering her eldest grandson was ignoring her reasoning and running around like a chicken with his head cut off, Granny Evans felt like she was experiencing the Santa debacle all over again…

Since he wasn’t going to listen to what she had to say to him, she figured she’d change tactics to calming him down.

“Wes, if something did happen to Soul then the DWMA would have contacted us—“

“ _He didn’t put us down as emergency contacts!_ ” he snapped.

Granny Evans raised her eyebrow in both surprise and disbelief while she watched Wes stop packing to pull at the ends of his hair, a frustrated groan coming out of his mouth.

Wes knew the gist of how the DWMA worked—after all, he was the one to help Soul research the academy after his brother found out about his weapon blood. He knew that once students entered the academy and pledged their life to fighting “kishin-eggs” and “maintaining balance” then that meant they were considered adults. They could do whatever they wanted, live wherever they wanted, be called whatever they wanted. And if students so wished choose, they could declare themselves independent. They were their own person and didn’t need to rely on anyone else—any existing family be damned!

As much as Wes didn’t like to think about it, he knew his little brother was one of those students who declared independence. Soul never was comfortable as an Evans. He always had it in his mind that he didn’t belong and if he were to stay then he’d somehow bring shame to the family. It didn’t matter how many times Wes tried to tell him differently, his brother stubbornly wouldn’t listen.

So he wasn’t surprised after that first call when Soul declared his new name was “Soul Eater.” Wes didn’t need an elaboration to know Soul was rebuilding himself for this new life of his. He didn’t want any ties to his old life…and that included Wes as well.

This was partially why he practically _begged_ Soul to keep in contact with him. Even though Wes was a part of the life Soul didn’t want to live anymore, it was _Wes_ who wanted to be a part of his brother’s _new life_. He didn’t have to be Wesley Evans, violin prodigy; he could just be Wes, the big brother of the demon scythe Soul Eater.

He had always been afraid of the possibility that one day the calls would stop, that maybe Soul decided he was done with his brother for good (and therefore wiping his hands clean of his past). But as the monthly calls kept coming, the more Wes clung onto that hope that Soul still cared about him in some way.

Almost 2 years of monthly calls and then sudden utter silence. It could mean one of two things: either Soul finally decided to burn his bridges, or something _terrible_ happened to his little brother.

Needlessly to say Wes was _not_ taking it well.

“Have you tried calling the DWMA instead?” his grandmother’s reasonable voice broke through to him.

“Of course I have! And they’re _useless_ when it comes to giving out information!”

In the months he waited, he had talked to three receptionists. The first one was skeptical of Wes’s calls and refused to tell him anything since Soul never put down any other contact information other than his meister’s phone number. The second one was more trusting, but denied him any information other than that Soul was still listed as a student. Finally, the third one (who sounded like a cross between a kind grandmother and a motivational speaker) told him to “not give up” on his brother. What the hell was that supposed to mean?!

Wes was so sick with worry he had announced to his family at dinner that he was packing a suitcase and going to travel to Death City to check on Soul. This led to an argument between he and his parents as Wes was supposed to fly to Italy in a couple of days to perform at the Teatro Carlo Felice. In dramatic Wesley Evans fashion, he scoffed and rolled his eyes at his parents’ priorities before storming out of the dining hall to his room to grab his suitcase. The only person of the family who hadn’t said anything was his grandmother, who had followed him in order to cool him down.

“When was the last time you called him?” she patiently asked.

“Two days ago. Went straight to voicemail as per usual.” Wes replied with a huff and an eye roll. His brother was _such_ a teenager when it came to that stupid phone.

“Try calling him again.”

Wes scowled, “Granny, there’s no _point_! I’ve been calling for _months_ now! It’s _always_ going to go to voicemail! The only way I can find out if he’s okay is to actually _go to that damn school myself_!”

He let out a sharp cry of pain as he felt his grandmother’s cane smack him in the head. “Granny Chop” is what Soul dubbed it during one of their phone calls.

“Don’t go into hysterics on me, young man. Your brother is strong, probably stronger than any of us in this house. I’m old and wise enough to see that he won’t go down that easily by whatever your wild imagination has fabricated.” Wes made a pitiful, whining noise but of course his grandmother ignored him to continue with her tirade, “It won’t do him any good to go barreling into the school guns a’blazing just to see that he’s perfectly fine and dandy. It would be, oh how does Soul put it? Yes, most ‘ _uncool_.’” Granny Evans said with a chuckle and a grin. Wes noted her pronounced canines, their unique sharpness reminding him of Soul.

While their parents were more interested in Soul’s musical talents and his reputation in society, their grandmother was more inclined to Soul’s weapon blood. Something about how she knew her youngest grandson was “special” in that he resembled her great-grandfather (who as it turned out was also a weapon, but preferred diplomacy as opposed to monster hunting). Granny Evans thought the weapon blood had died out seeing as how her great-grandfather fathered many children, who produced children of their own and children after that, yet no one showed the weapon gene…until Soul Evans was born. If Soul couldn’t count on Wes to have his back, then there was always his grandmother to fall back on.

Wes frowned, rubbing his sore head, “So, what, you think if I call this time he’ll answer?”

Granny Evans shrugged, “Wouldn’t hurt. You never know…”

Wes rolled his eyes, but grabbed his phone from his pocket anyway. “Alright, fine, I’ll call him one more time. But if he doesn’t answer then consider my guns ‘ _blazing_.’”

Granny Evans nodded and made her way to the chair at Wes’s desk. She made herself comfortable on the plush cushion as she watched.

Wes sighed and pressed Soul’s name in his contact list. Putting the phone to his ear he listened to the ringer as he waited.

And waited…

And waited…

_And waited…_

He growled at his grandmother, “See! He’s not picking up! Something has happened to him and I can’t believe I’m the only one in this family that _cares_!”

“Wes—“

“He could be lost somewhere! Or…or kidnapped! He might be lying in a ditch somewhere _dead_ and it’ll be all my fault for not doing anything sooner to check on him, and—“

“Hello?”

Wes stopped his rant short as he stared at his phone incredulously. Was that…?

“Soul?!” he screamed into the phone, hope replenishing.

He could practically see his brother wince at the volume of his voice. “Duh, of course it’s me. Geez, you freaking called me, why are you so surprised?”

“Where have you been, young man?!” Wes hated how he would involuntarily shift into sounding like Soul’s parent, but he couldn’t care this time around. He was really worried dammit!

There was a pause on the other line before Soul said, “Ummm Death City? Where I’ve been for the last 2 years?”

“Don’t get snarky with me, Soul Alister Evans! You haven’t called in _months_! And you haven’t been answering your phone either! I’ve even left messages! What’s your excuse for this?”

He could practically _feel_ Soul’s eye roll, that little shit.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve been _busy_.”

“Yes, busy giving your brother a panic attack!” Wes shot back, “You’re lucky you picked up the phone, I almost bought a ticket out there to make sure you were still alive!"

Soul took a sharp intake of breath. Wes then heard a growl escape his little brother.

“You wouldn’t have.”

Wes felt hurt. The way Soul sounded…like having someone from his family actually coming out to see him was ludicrous. True, Wes was busy with his own life and his violin career, but every now and then he would ask Soul if he would want him to visit only for the younger brother to deny him—saying he was just fine with the phone conversations.

Had Wes not tried hard enough? Did Soul really think he cared so little for him that the thought of Wes flying to Death City was a ridiculous notion?

Feeling irritation growing, Wes snapped back into the receiver, “Don’t think I wouldn’t, young man!”

There was another pause. If Wes had to guess, Soul was having a hard time processing how serious his older brother was. Wes cut his gaze to his grandmother who was silently watching him, expression unreadable. Upon seeing the eldest Evans brother looking to her, her mouth formed a smile and she made a gesture with her cane that Wes deduced to mean, “Go on, keep talking to him.”

“You… You’re serious aren’t you?” Soul’s voice grabbed his attention back to the phone, “You really would have come?”

Wes couldn’t help but give a bitter chuckle, “Would have stormed the school and demanded to the Grim Reaper himself that I see you.”

“Ugh, Wes, not cool!”

Despite himself, Wes laughed at his brother’s reaction. It stopped when he heard Soul’s voice again, but this time softer.

“But… But you have that concert coming up. The one in Italy…”

Wes raised an eyebrow. How did Soul know about that? Sometimes he’ll mention concerts or rehearsals to the boy, but since Soul didn’t want to discuss anything music related Wes tended to venture away from those topics. Since it had been a few months, Wes was fairly sure he never brought up the performance at the Teatro Carlo Felice.

Deciding not to dwell on that mystery, Wes instead said, “I was going to call them and tell them something came up and I would not be there. Instead of packing for Italy weather I was packing for Nevada.”

Though with the way he was skittering around his room just randomly throwing things in a suitcase, it was safe to say Wes wasn’t really packing with the weather in mind…

“But… But why?”

Wes blanched. Was he serious? Did he have to spell it out for him? He’s known Soul for 14 years ( _How is his brother only 14?_ ) and the boy didn’t know by now what it meant to be family?

He had to fight back a wince. Considering the pressure their parents put on both him and Soul to uphold their family reputation and sharpen their music skills to be the upmost best, maybe it wasn’t so farfetched that Soul would think he’d put a violin over his own brother.

Man, their family was kind of fucked up. No wonder Soul ran off to skewer mass murderers.

“Why? Soul, you’re my brother, of _course_ I’d put you over a silly concert!”

No matter what the Evans reputation dictated, Wes would not lower himself to put his talents over his baby brother. He’d rather not be an Evans at all if it meant losing Soul completely.

“Oh… Uh, thanks I guess?” was all Soul said. Wes had to fight off a laugh. His brother was so awkward sometimes, especially when it came to affection. Maybe someday he’ll grow out of it and learn to accept those around him who care.

“Anytime, little bro.”

To avoid an awkward silence on Soul’s end, Wes continued the conversation, “So now that I finally have you on the phone, will you _please_ tell me what had you so ‘busy’ you wouldn’t even call your big brother?”

Soul sighed, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You’ll probably freak out if I told you _everything_ but the gist of it is: the world’s kind of gone to shit.”

Wes’s eyes widened, “Oh? Do tell.”

Needless to say at the end of Soul’s story (and Wes was pretty sure he wasn’t told the entirety of it), Wes _was_ freaking out. How could he not when he found out that the reason Soul missed his monthly calls was because he had been recovering from an injury that had left him incapacitated for some time. And to top it off there was this thing called “madness” infecting the entire world thanks to some psychopathic…demon god… _thing_ that had been _underneath the school_.

“Wow, that’s…quite the stressful situation you’ve got yourself there, Soul.”

_Understatement of the freaking century!_

“I know right?”

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay though?” He had to ask this because even though he couldn’t prove it, he _knew_ Soul had omitted just how involved in this Asura situation he was. Wes’s first priority was making sure Soul was physically as well as mentally well.

Soul let out an exasperated sigh, fed up with his brother’s mothering. “Yes, Wes, I’m _fine_! I’m fine. Maka’s fine. My friends are fine. We’re all fine.”

Wes frowned. It seemed like Soul was just saying that to placate him.

“Okay,” Soul groaned, “maybe I’m a little banged up, and this madness thing might be a problem for the future, but _at the moment_ I’m fine. I promise you. I swear on your shitty violin.”

Wes gasped, “How rude!” But he allowed himself to smile at his brother’s last admission. He felt his eyes water at the sincerity in his brother’s voice when he had promised.

“Alright then. I believe you.”

“Good. Now, are we done here? You gotta repack your stuff for your trip to Italy and Maka’s called me for dinner, like, five times now.”

As much as he hated to let Soul go for another month or so of danger and uncertainty, he knew his brother was right. It was getting late and he had to do some damage control with his parents after his earlier outburst.

“Yes, we’re done here. Be safe, and _please_ try to call me. If you can’t then just shoot me a text to let me know you’re still breathing, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Bye Soul! Love you!”

His little brother let out another sigh and a grumbling of, “Yeah, sure,” before hanging up. Wes didn’t mind that his brother never responded to his affectionate words; that’s just how his teenage brother was. He still got the message that Wes was still there for him and cared about him no matter how far in his new life Soul went.

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled then.”

Wes was surprised to see his grandmother was still in his room in the chair she had occupied. He felt ashamed that he was too engrossed in talking to his little brother he completely forgot her presence.

“Oh, I’m sorry Granny. I should have told Soul you were here. Maybe he would have gotten a chance to talk to you too.”

Granny Evans shook here head at him, “It’s not a problem. I’ll talk to him another time.”

Wes nodded. He stared at his jumbled suitcase and let out a tired sigh. He’ll have to unpack whatever was thrown in before repacking. But he’ll get to that _after_ he talked to his mother and father. Before all that, though, there was one thing he had to ask his Granny.

“How did you know he would have picked up?”

“To be honest, I didn’t know for sure. However…” she trailed off before digging into her pocket, “I knew he was still alive. You were so busy acting like a hysterical fool you wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say.” She then produced what looked to be a rectangular piece of paper, “While the boy is awful at using a telephone, he’s still considerate enough to send his old grandmother postcards.”

Wes’s eyes widened as he was handed the postcard. Big Ben showed brightly from the reflective film on the card—Wes figured Soul was in London when he purchased it. It was dated a couple of months before now.

He skimmed through the writing before coming across the last line before Soul’s parting signature:

_Don’t tell Wes about the werewolf thing. The last thing I need is him blowing up my phone asking if I got a rabies shot or something stupid like that._

He laid his hand over his eyes, letting out an uncharacteristic snarl. Of course, leave it to Soul to let his dear grandmother know he was alive and well but not his very own brother.

One day he’ll kill that little shit for making him worry so much!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Granny Evans is starting to become a favorite of mine. You'll see more of her in a later chapter.
> 
> Trivia:
> 
> 1\. According to the timeline crafted by the Soul Eater Wiki, apparently Soul and Maka meet Crona sometime in the winter and then Asura is resurrected the following April. So, I unknowingly made Wes suffer Soul's silence for a whopping 4-5 months. I'm surprisingly mean to this guy...
> 
> 2\. The Teatro Carlo Felice is a real concert hall in Italy. There's no real reason I chose it, it was just the first result that popped up when I googled "concert halls in Italy."
> 
> 3\. Soul knows about Wes's upcoming concert through two ways: Granny Evans mentioned it in a previous letter to him, and during his and Maka's time in Italy he noticed an advertisement for it.
> 
> 4\. Soul is a total grandma's boy.
> 
> 5\. The receptionist who is referred to as a "kind grandmother and motivational speaker" is the reception lady in the manga who was a badass and survived a suicide bomb against one of the Clowns. Sadly she ended up dying anyway. I love her and wanted to make a small reference to her.
> 
> 6\. I wanted to make Soul's middle name "Alabaster" in reference to his white hair, but it made him sound like a Gary Stu so I chose Alister instead, which is similar sounding and a better name overall. You're welcome.
> 
> 7\. More about the postcards: Granny Evans never bothered to tell her family about them because it was just something between her and Soul. Soul usually also asks she never tell anyone some of the things he puts in the letters. The only other person outside of Granny, Soul, and now Wes who know about the postcards is Maka. She wormed it out of Soul after their first mission when she caught him buying one. She thinks it's cute he still writes to his grandmother.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and giving this story feedback. I appreciate you! Please comment and kudos if you liked it!


	5. Jealousy and Rift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have reviewed, left kudos, bookmarked, etc.

**Timeline:** After Soul becomes a Death Scythe but before the Salvage arc

* * *

"So you're a Death Scythe now?"

"Yep." Soul said, popping the "p" sound.

"Cool. What's it like?"

Soul imagined Wes was sitting on some lavish and plush couch, bouncing on the soft cushions in excitement like a 10 year old. It was both an amusing and annoying vision for Soul.

He shrugged his shoulders; something he always managed to do even though he knew Wes couldn't see him, "Doesn't feel any different to be honest…"

"Oh…"

"But I do feel a little more powerful, I guess?" he said, trying his best to keep the conversation going. "And Maka's got this weird angel soul thing so when we resonate it puts wings on my scythe form. So that's kinda cool I guess…"

"Angel soul?"

"It's called a Grigori soul. It's super rare or whatever. Maka's now fixated on the whole angel motif thing, which is a major pain in the ass."

"Oh really? I figured you of all people would agree whole heartedly that your little meister is an angel sent from heaven." Wes chuckled. Soul felt a vein throb. He was enjoying tormenting his little brother, the bastard!

"Fuck off! She's more like a harpy than an angel!"

"Geez, you're almost 15 and you're still acting like this? Either you're maturing slowly or you're so in love you're acting childish to compensate for it…"

"Wes, I swear to Lord Death—"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop badgering you about your love life." He said, his mirth still coating his voice.

"Thank you! There's actually another reason why I called." Soul said, getting back to business.

"What's up?"

"So, Maka and I and a bunch of other meister/weapon teams are a part of this group called Spartoi. We're basically being trained to fight the Kishin. So that means we'll be going on more advanced missions and such."

"I see."

"Yeah. So I'm just letting you know, if I don't call you or I don't answer my phone for a long period of time for the love of God, _please don't freak out_! I do _not_ want Lord Death calling me from Maka's fucking _compact mirror_ requesting that I calm your dramatic mother hen ass down because you decided to tear the school apart trying to find me!"

Seriously, while Soul was touched his brother cared about him to the point he'd make a hasty decision to travel all the way to Nevada to check on him…it didn't change the fact that that would have been _embarrassing_ had their grandmother not stopped him, _and_ it would have made Soul lose _so_ many cool points.

"I'm offended!" Wes said, a mock gasp emphasizing his words.

"Good."

Wes snorted. It probably would have been considered unattractive but Soul knew his brother was able to make slurping his soup look refined and dignified. Man, that pissed him off.

"Let's go back to the previous topic, shall we? Particularly the angel soul stuff." His older brother said, and Soul sighed as he sat back in his desk chair to get comfortable. Looks like this was gonna be one of their longer phone conversations… "So you can grow wings now? That means you can fly?"

"Yeah, that's the general concept. We're still not that great at it yet. Maka and I have to practice some more, especially if we're in a situation for aerial battles."

"Wow, the ability to fly." Wes said in wonder. He didn't seem to care about Soul's admission that he and Maka still kind of sucked at their newest skill. Soul desperately tried not to roll his eyes at his brother. When Wes was fascinated by something it was kind of hard to get him to focus on the big picture.

"That's amazing. I have to admit, I'm rather jealous."

That made Soul freeze.

His brother? _Jealous_? Of _him_?

The concept was so foreign, Soul was barely paying attention to Wes gushing about how proud he was of his brother and how grown up he was becoming. He couldn't even rail on him for being uncool and mushy because... _how_ on _earth_ could Wes Evans be _jealous_ of his brother?

Wes was the eldest son. He was the automatic favorite of the family. He got to do everything first and he did it _best_.

And he was _leagues_ above Soul when it came to being an Evans. Wes was the more charming brother; he always knew what to say and how to say it so whatever situation he was in would go in his favor. Soul, on the other hand, was socially awkward. He wasn't very good at dealing with people. The only way he could express himself was through his piano, and the boy couldn't even do _that_ right!

Wes's violin skills were so much better than Soul's piano. When Wes played, people felt _moved_ , like he was speaking to their souls. When Soul played, it was like he was baring _his_ soul for the world…

And the world didn't want to see it.

Wes was not jealous of his little brother. It just wasn't possible. It would be a cold day in hell before that happened. No matter what his big brother was currently telling him.

"Soul? Soul? Are you still there? Did you hang up?"

"Huh?" Soul asked, not realizing he had spaced out.

"You alright? I've been going on and on about how magical it would be to fly and you haven't snapped at me once for being a lame priss." Wes laughed lightly, but it was strained in a way that told Soul he really was worried about his silence.

"Sorry, just got to thinking about stuff." He said.

"Oh? Do you want to—"

"Oh Wesley, there you are!" came a new voice in the background, ringing loud and clear through the speaker. Soul's breath hitched. It was his mother. "It's time to gather in the dining hall. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh… Mother, I was just, uh…"

Soul was about to panic. Please lie, Wes. _Please lie!_

"Are you talking to your brother?"

_Lie, Wes! Lie!_

"Umm, well..."

_Dammit!_

"Give me the phone! Darling!" she called to her husband, "Wesley has Soul on the phone! Come talk to him!"

_No!_

Soul should hang up. He had to hang up _right now_.

"Oh, Soul!" his mother greeted, "It's so nice to finally hear from you. How are you, dear?"

"Fine." Came his clipped response.

His mother tsk'd at him. The clucking sound she made with her tongue and teeth grated on Soul's nerves, reminding him of days past filled with etiquette lessons and harsh criticism. "Don't speak with such attitude, honey. It's unbecoming. _Darling_!" she called to Soul's father again, "Get in here."

Soul felt paralyzed. Why couldn't he hang up?

"Soul." His father's baritone voice came through the speaker. "I expect things are going well."

It wasn't a question.

“Yes, sir.” Soul said, his voice robotic. It was strange, how easy it was for him to fall back into old habits. His obedience made his entire being _cringe_ in disgust. How pathetic.

“Good. Good.” His father sounded satisfied. Soul grit his teeth. His father always expected nothing but perfection from his two sons. At least one son met his crazy high expectations. The other, however…

Soul tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was why he was so reluctant to keep in contact with his family. Talking to his parents was bringing back so many emotional scars Soul never wanted to acknowledge.

“And you’re doing well at the DWMA?”

"Yes, sir. I became one of Lord Death's Death Scythes." Not that that meant anything to them…

"Excellent. Just what you can expect from an Evans!" Soul flinched at his father's words. Even though it _sounded_ like praise, Soul knew better. His father wasn't proud of his achievement, he was happy that his youngest wasn't proving to be an embarrassment.

"Now, you are still practicing your piano, aren't you?" his father decided to ask next. Soul felt his fist clench.

"Please tell me he is!" his mother's voice trilled in the background, "It would not do if he were to become rusty after spending 3 years fighting dreadful monsters."

"Mother, father, give me the phone!" he heard Wes hiss.

"Well, Soul?"

Soul bristled, but couldn't find the strength to lie to his father. "I play sometimes, but it's not for performing for an audience…" It was more for battle, but like hell Soul was gonna spend time talking to his parents trying to explain how _that_ worked.

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't you play for an audience? Just because you're making yourself a career as a glorified _farm tool_ doesn't mean you should stop your practicing altogether. Think of the family, Soul!"

His mother ripped the phone away from his father, "Your father's right, dear. Wesley has made such a name for himself since you've been gone. People around the world are _begging_ him to play his violin. Oh, if things had been different maybe that could be you too…"

He's heard enough.

" _Mother_! Give me the phone, _now_!"

There was a sharp yelp from his mother before Wes's voice came back clearly through the receiver. "Soul? Soul, don't listen to them, they—"

"I gotta go. Maka's calling me."

"But—"

"Say hi to Granny for me."

"Okay then... Love yo—"

Soul slammed on the "end call" button. He couldn't even feel guilty at cutting his brother off like that. He just felt so…so…

Inadequate.

It didn't matter that Soul was the first Evans in generations to inherit weapon blood. It didn't matter that he achieved Death Scythe status. It didn't matter that he would soon be relied on to defeat the greatest evil, Kishin Asura. No, all that mattered to his parents was their damn reputation and his lackluster music that will always, _always_ be compared to his brother's.

It didn't matter.

_He_ didn't matter.

His phone vibrated in his hand. It was Wes. Soul declined the call. His brother called again, but it was met with another decline. After a third attempt Soul just turned his phone off. He didn't feel like talking to Wes anymore. Didn't want to deal with all the baggage he had been carrying around since he was a little kid and realized he'd never measure up.

Numbly, Soul extracted himself from his desk chair. Normally, whenever his feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came back to haunt him, he'd just lie down on his bed and sleep the rest of the day; but this time he felt the need to go to the one person who could give him comfort. Someone he _knew_ actually gave a shit about him as a _person_ rather than an extension of themselves.

"Hey, you finally came out of your room." Maka said from her position on the couch, book in her hands. Upon seeing her partner's face her smile shifted downwards into a concerned frown.

"Soul? What's the matter?"

He stared at Maka. He hated agreeing with Wes, but in a way he was right. He did consider Maka somewhat of an angel, though not in that gooey, lovey-dovey kind of way.

In his own, twisted mind he considered her heaven-sent. When Soul felt the dark parts of him swallowing him whole, she lit a light to guide him back to some form of sanity. No one really cared to get to know him on such a deep level—Wes had certainly tried, but in the end even his older brother couldn't understand him in the way that he found out Maka could.

When Soul played the piano, he was bearing his entire being—his soul—to the world. While the audience would clap and compliment him he could tell that it was forced politeness. Those who knew music knew that his piano playing was strange and scary. It was too vulnerable, too dark, and no one wanted anything to do with it.

Until Maka came along…

He'll never be good enough to his parents. He'll never be as good a musician— _an Evans_ —as his brother.

But for Maka, he wanted to be _everything_ to her. Was practically _desperate_ to prove it to her.

"Soul, you're scaring me. Your wavelength is all over the place." Maka softly told him as she put her book on the coffee table. "Tell me what's wrong."

Soul heaved a heavy sigh before moving toward her. He flopped down on the other side of the couch before lowering his head onto her lap. In response she dug her fingers in his hair and gently combed through it in a soothing motion. He tried to focus on the sensation rather than his burning eyes. He refused to cry. There was no need to unnecessarily worry her.

"It's stupid." He answered in a hoarse whisper.

Soul wasn't exactly sure what he was referring to. Was his parents' lack of caring about him and his life stupid? Or was he stupid for allowing these overwhelming thoughts and feelings get the better of him?

Either way, it didn't matter. He didn't want to dwell on it anymore.

He didn't contact Wes for a long time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now let's give a big warm welcome to sadness!
> 
> This chapter is meant to be a set-up to the Book of Eibon's Envy chapter during the Salvage arc. I wanted to explore Soul's jealousy of his brother and his inferiority complex. It's also a bit of a turning point for Soul's character development in the canon.
> 
> Trivia:
> 
> 1\. I don't bother giving Soul's parents names because I feel like it's not important. Soul's not close to them according to my headcanon, so it's better to just give them detached titles like "mother" and "father" than grace their characters with actual names.
> 
> 2\. This isn't a SoMa fanfiction, but it wouldn't be me if I didn't include it. I'm shameless like that. That said, if people want to see their interactions in this chapter more platonic than romantic then that's cool.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Review please! Have a nice day!


	6. Interlude and In Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of Granny Evans and some Evans Family lore that nobody asked for. Hope you enjoy!

**Timeline:** Between the Salvage arc and the War On The Moon arc

* * *

Wes Evans was best known for his dramatics.

Whether it be the smooth and frivolous way he played his violin, or his response to miniscule things going on in his life, he always managed to steal the spotlight and grab everyone's attention one way or another.

It wasn't lost on him that his habit of stealing the spotlight might have been what ultimately drove Soul away.

"Shhh, Wesley. There's no need to cry." Granny Evans soothed, patting his head, which was currently resting in her lap.

"I can't believe I allowed them to take the phone from me! And what they said—!"

"I know. They're quite the short-sighted lot aren't they?"

Just like generations before and after her, Estelle Evans was quite the musical prodigy herself. She played the harp and played it very well. Whenever the Evans family would travel to concert halls and social events, everyone knew to pay their respects to the old matriarch of the famous family.

But unlike others in her family, Estelle knew status wasn't everything.

Her great-grandfather taught her that before his death.

_"We are quite talented in the art of music, little one. However," he would warn her, "we fail in one of the best arts of all—humility. This is a big, beautiful world. Don't let its riches and fancies blind you…"_

Estelle adored her great-grandfather Solomon Evans when she was a child. He had platinum blond hair that looked white in the bright sunlight (this color would carry on and pale into true white with future generations), deep red eyes that were a defining trait of the Evans' family, and the most curious feature of all, prominent sharp teeth. The teeth, Estelle deduced, must've been a recessive trait because the closest anyone in her family got to Solomon's teeth were a few of the children being born with sharp canines—Estelle included.

Solomon was also a demon scythe. He attended the DWMA, but didn't have a penchant for combat. He preferred his musical talents and his way to connect with people instead. Once he had graduated, he spent his life touring the world performing and networking with others in society in order to promote the DWMA and Lord Death's doctrine for balance.

The Evans family remained proud supporters of the DWMA and often sent money to help fund the academy, but as years went by it became more of a footnote in their history—especially once it became apparent that Solomon's weapon gene didn't carry on into his descendants.

After his death when Estelle was a young girl, life went on. She studied her harp, married a man who was a gifted opera singer, and bore children who were also musically inclined. Then they grew up and most of them scattered throughout the world save her eldest son, who insisted Estelle live with him and his wife after her husband died of throat cancer.

Estelle had tried to take Solomon's lessons about humility to heart, but alas, she was only human and had allowed herself to become engrossed in the finer things in life just as the rest of the Evans family. It wouldn't be until she got older in her age that her great-grandfather's words would ring in her head and she'd realize that she had to shape herself up. It helped with the birth of her grandchildren.

Her son's wife gave birth to her first grandson, Wesley Gale Evans, who immediately expressed an interest in the violin. Ecstatic to encourage their son's playing, his parents called for a tutor. By age 7, Wes was quickly the talk of the town with how beautifully he played. Estelle was proud.

But her real pride and joy was the second son, Soul Alister Evans.

The minute he was born, she knew he was special. She couldn't quite put her finger on it though. Her son and daughter-in-law thought it was because she had a sixth sense about Soul's musical ability, but that wasn't quite it.

She supposed it might have had to do with how similar he was in appearance to her dear great-grandfather. His hair and his eyes were staples of the Evans men by this point in the generation, but his teeth…

All of his teeth were sharp, just like Solomon's.

Soul didn't like to smile much as the menacing appearance made him look unapproachable, but Estelle and Wes assured him his teeth were unique and they liked them.

As a result he only smiled in their presence.

Despite similar looks, Estelle couldn't say Soul was similar to Solomon personality-wise. Solomon—being a diplomat at heart—was extroverted and knew how to talk to people and handle situations.

Soul, on the contrary, was quite the introvert. He didn't like opening up to anyone and kept to himself and his piano. The only time Estelle saw his true personality was when he would wander into her room to listen to her play the harp.

"It's pretty." He told her one day.

"Thank you." She would then indicate to the piano she kept in her room. "Would you like to play with me?"

Even as a young boy he flinched at the thought of performing. "I can't…"

"Nonsense, child. You're very talented for your age. Just like your brother." This was true, as Soul was showing that the Evans family blood ran strong in him when it came to how quick he grasped the art of music.

Soul pouted. In a soft, meek voice he said, "But I'm _not_ like my brother."

This gave Estelle pause. She had never noticed until this point that something was wrong in their family.

Soul would still play the piano, though. It wouldn't look good if he _didn't_ play. When he turned 8 and started playing pieces of his own, Estelle could finally place what exactly it was about his music made Soul hesitate about playing…

It was dark.

Not in a bad way, in her opinion at least. It was just…surreal. The notes Soul played almost chilled her old bones. But it wasn't terrible—quite the opposite. However, Estelle knew that in a world of harsh music critics, Soul's strange and intriguing melodies did not have a place. A fact that put great strain on the relationship between he and his parents.

"Soul, dear, why don't you play this song instead?" his mother would say. "It's more…let's say, _appropriate_!"

"Soul, stop playing that piece in that key! That's not how it's supposed to be done!" his father would berate.

"Hey, little bro, let's do a duet. I'll let you choose the song." Wes once said to him, trying hard to please his little brother.

Soul had scowled at him, "Why bother? We're going to end up playing it _your_ way, anyway."

It was after these exchanges that Estelle would find herself comforting her sniveling eldest grandson while watching the youngest pout and lock himself in his room. Normally, the elderly woman would find her grandchildren's banter entertaining, but in these moments it was heartbreaking.

It wasn't until Soul turned 11 that Estelle finally figured out why she thought her youngest grandchild was special.

During practice for a recital the Evans family would be hosting at their manor, Soul's playing was interrupted when his arm suddenly turned into a blade and pierced the piano.

His father yelled in shock and outrage, his mother fainted, Wes cursed, and Estelle just stared in awe.

It took five generations, but the weapon blood finally came back.

"Soul should enter the Death Weapon Meister Academy." She announced to the family at dinner a few days following the "incident" (as her son decided to call it).

Soul's head shot up, his eyes wide as he looked to his grandmother.

"Really, mother? Is that necessary?" her son asked. He was still miffed that his youngest son ruined one of their finest grand pianos.

Granny Evans couldn't help it as she hit her son over the head with her cane. That's what he got for talking back to his mother!

"If you don't want to keep paying for replacement pianos, then yes, it is." She said with finality. "Soul is a weapon. He has to learn how to control this new power and use it for Lord Death, if he so wishes that is."

"Oh my!" her daughter-in-law gasped, "Those people fight those dreadful _monsters_! Are you suggesting my baby boy go off and get himself killed?!"

Estelle fought off rolling her eyes. It's not a wonder where Wes inherited his dramatics…

"I'll go."

Everyone at the table turned to the youngest Evans.

"Excuse me?" his father demanded.

"I said I'll go." Soul repeated, a conviction in his voice that Estelle hadn't heard before in her youngest grandson. "I want to learn how to be a weapon. I want to attend the DWMA."

There was a small pause as everyone registered his declaration.

"I support Soul's decision." Wes voiced. Even though the older teen was fiercely protective of his little brother, he was still willing to give Soul his support in whatever he did.

"As do I, of course." Estelle said, grinning to show off her canines.

It took a lot of arguing and bartering, but the decision was finally made. Soul Evans was going to Death City, Nevada.

Estelle wasn't exactly happy to lose touch with her grandson. After all, who would entertain her now when the parties became absolutely, dreadfully, _boring_? But he was following in his ancestor's footsteps and seemed to be excited to do so, so she kept up her happy demeanor.

"Please write to me if you can." She requested of him.

Soul nodded as he packed his suitcases. Much to his parents' horror and his brother's amusement he had traded in his pristine suits for jeans and a t-shirt, garish black and yellow sneakers with a jacket to match, and a headband to keep his hair out of his eyes. He said this particular way of dressing was "cool." Estelle wasn't quite up to date with youth fashion, but she'll humor her grandson anyway.

"Yeah, okay. From what Wes and I read, if you enter the EAT class you'll go on missions around the world." He gave his grandmother the sharp-toothed grin she adored, "I'll send you a postcard wherever me and my meister go."

She gave him a kiss on the forehead. He was such a sweet boy, no matter what he wanted you to believe.

Soul didn't want his departure to be a big deal, so Wes offered to simply drive him to the airport. Granny Evans accompanied them.

"Do you have everything?" Wes asked.

"Yes, Wes."

"Got your carry-on?"

Soul raised an eyebrow as he lifted his backpack in reply.

"Got your ticket?"

"Right here."

"Got your passport?"

Another nod.

"Got your cell phone?"

" _Yes_ , Wes." Estelle knew Soul was getting impatient with his older brother.

"You're _sure_ you have everything?"

Soul punched his brother's arm, "For the love of _God_ Wes, yes, I have everything! Geez, you're such a mother hen!"

Wes laughed though Estelle knew he was fighting back tears. No one was taking Soul's leaving harder than him.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop. But you _better_ let me know when you land, young man, or else!"

Soul rolled his eyes, "Alright, geez, I will. Can I go now? My plane's about to take off."

Despite his protests, Wes gave his little brother a crushing hug. After he was finished Granny Evans hugged him too, pecking his cheek affectionately.

"You'll be great."

Soul tried to hide the tears welling in his eyes. "Thanks, Granny…"

That was 3 years ago. Soul kept his promise and sent her postcards from all locations of the world. And to placate his brother he would call him almost every month if he were able to.

Now though…Estelle was just as afraid as Wes was on whether or not Soul would still keep in contact.

"He won't ever call back!" Wes wailed into her lap.

"Yes, he will."

"No, he won't! And I _know_ he's purposefully ignoring my calls. He hates me, Granny. He hates this family. We put so much pressure on him and made him feel like he wasn't good enough! Why would he ever _want_ to call back?"

Estelle shushed him, running her fingers through his hair, "Because you're his brother, Wesley. He could never hate you. He loves you."

Wes continued to sob. "I failed him. It's because of me—"

"Now don't play the blame game. It won't do you any good, and it _definitely_ won't make Soul call you back anytime soon. Just be patient with him, Wes. That's all you can do."

He spent the rest of the night crying. Estelle didn't have the heart to smack him with her cane when he got snot all over her expensive skirt.

Wes didn't talk to his parents for a long time. He went abroad to play concerts, made his regular appearances at social gatherings, and lived his life as best as he could while silently worrying about what Soul was doing and if his little brother was all right.

During that time he finally moved out of the manor and into a nice house on Long Island. He frequently called his grandmother and sometimes would travel back to the Evans estate to see her. Many times he asked if she'd like to move and live with him but she politely declined. At her age, it would be a pain to make new living arrangements.

Besides, Soul still hadn't called so he wouldn't know where to send her his postcards. She was thankful he still sent them. They were only short messages though—mostly about the sites he saw—but Granny Evans didn't mind. He still thought of her, despite how busy he was or how much he wanted to distance himself from the rest of the family.

Finally, after many months of waiting, Wes's phone rang. He was making one of his visits to her and was relaxing in her room listening to his elderly grandmother play the harp when the ringtone cut through the peaceful atmosphere. Wes checked the caller ID.

He gasped. "Granny! Granny it's him!"

Estelle rolled her eyes. "Well, don't keep him waiting, you silly boy. Answer it!"

She didn't have to tell him twice as he unlocked his phone and set it to speakerphone for his grandmother to listen in. He then proceeded to yell into the receiver, "SOOOOOOUL!"

" _Jesus Christ_ , Wes, are you _trying_ to make me go deaf?!" she heard her youngest grandson yell back through the phone. Wes cried and blubbered in response causing Soul to berate his behavior, Granny Evans laughing as she heard him utter the phrase, "So not cool…"

As she listened to Wes and Soul communicate on the phone, Estelle allowed herself to relax and smile. Her aged, wrinkled hands idly plucked at the harp strings.

"M'sorry. For…y'know…" Soul muttered.

Granny Evans wished he were here in person so she could wrap him in a hug. She knew Wes felt the same as he sniffed into a handkerchief.

"All is forgiven, little one."

"Of course, Soul. We love you!"

On the other line, Soul took in a shaky breath.

"Yeah… I know."

Things would be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is were I start to play with the timeline a bit. Once the Salvage Arc finishes up, everything afterwards in the manga pretty much happens in rapid succession. In the Checking In Universe, in order for the narrative to work, I needed more space in between arcs. So between chapter 5 and the end of chapter 6 we have a small timeskip of roughly 3-4 months. Might not be canon-compliant but in order for this to make sense in my brain I have to do it.
> 
> Trivia
> 
> 1\. Originally, this chapter was going to be a standalone oneshot that tied into this universe. But once I wrote "Jealous and Rift" I realized it needed to be an actual chapter, otherwise the next chapter would have some unanswered questions and plot holes.
> 
> 2\. Genetics are a fascinating thing, and I could probably talk a lot about how Soul's features are probably due to recessive genes; but that would go against the rule of anime character design (meaning a design doesn't have to make sense as long as they look cool). So Soul isn't "strange" for having white hair and red eyes in-universe because they're staples of the Evans family. His teeth are the exception because I say so.
> 
> 3\. You guys might have figured it out by reading, but Estelle is a blood Evans who kept her last name. In noble families, if a man of lower status married a woman of higher status then the man had to take the woman's last name. The Evans family is a prestigious family, therefore, they would prefer if males marrying into the family took the Evans name. Estelle's late husband gave up his last name to take hers.
> 
> 4\. I implied in the fanfic that Soul actually has a rather large family but they are scattered across the globe. No one in the Evans family is particularly close to one another. The reason Estelle enjoys her grandsons so much is because for the first time in a long time, a pair of Evans siblings actually gave a shit about each other.
> 
> 5\. A bit of a random but cute headcanon: Estelle wanted to name Soul and was planning on naming him Solomon in honor of her great-grandfather. However, when she told Wes the name she was planning to use, Wes couldn't pronounce "Solomon" and ended up saying it as "SOUL-a-man." Estelle kind of rolled with it and told her son and daughter-in-law to name their new baby "Soul."


	7. Teasing and Meisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a breather chapter to make up for the angsty stuff I put you guys through. Enjoy!

**Timeline:** Sometime shortly before the war on the moon

* * *

Maka hummed to herself as she bustled around her and Soul’s apartment.

Things had been hectic since the trip to Russia. Crona was on the loose somewhere and their use of the black blood was proving to be a problem. With the deaths of Tsar Pushka and Feodor, Maka had learned her friend was now on Lord Death’s List. On top of that, it was revealed that Asura had been hiding on the moon!

Because of these new developments, Lord Death felt Spartoi should take a break to better prepare the group for the upcoming confrontation with Crona while the Death Scythes and Kid worked on a strategy to apprehend Asura.

Maka was so pent up with stress she decided to take it out on the apartment by cleaning it. It wasn’t a bad thing; because of all the recent missions, her and Soul’s home had become a bit neglected. It was in need of a good dusting.

They were also running low on food, so Maka, not wanting Soul to get in her way as she cleaned, demanded he make himself useful and go to the store to buy groceries. He didn’t complain (much).

After he left and she started to tackle the coffee table’s clutter, she noticed he didn’t take his phone with him. She supposed in his haste to leave his meister he was careless and forgot it.

Oh well. Hopefully nothing happened to him in the 15 minutes it took to get from their home to the store…

She suddenly squealed in surprise as his phone produced the most obnoxious ringtone she had ever heard. It must’ve been a personalized one because there was no way the phone company would allow a default ringer to sound like (what Maka presumed was) a dying violin!

It was like nails on a chalkboard! Maka may not know a thing about music, but she _knew_ a violin was not supposed to sound like _that_!

Thinking Soul would only associate such a horrid ringtone to someone like Black Star, Maka didn’t bother to read the caller ID as she opened his phone and placed it by her ear. “Hello?”

She wasn’t expecting the shocked voice of a young man. “Oh! Umm…hello? This is the phone of Soul Eater, isn’t it?”

Maka blinked. This was a voice she certainly didn’t recognize, but he knew Soul’s name so he must be a friend.

Instead of being rude and demanding the stranger tell her his name, she decided to take the phone away from her ear and look at the display to see the name of the caller.

_Wes._

Oh…

_Oh!_

Maka had only heard Soul mention his older brother a total number of three times.

The first time was when she was 12 and she accidentally saw his brother’s name pop up on Soul’s phone screen before her weapon cursed and snatched the phone away from her eyes, scurrying into his room to take the call. Once he came back into the living room, she decided to ask who Wes was. It took a lot of patience on Maka’s part, but eventually Soul revealed Wes was his older brother. No more elaboration was given and Maka—not wanting to push too hard—left it at that.

The second time was a little over a year later, after she and Soul had defeated Arachne. She had inquired to Soul about the song he played on his piano to connect all the souls together using her Soul Perception, to which he revealed that it was a song his older brother used to play. Seeing she had more questions, Soul explained that Wes was a violin player; therefore, he had used the spider web connecting all the souls together as if it was a stringed instrument.

“Oh, so both you and your brother are gifted in music.” She had mused.

Soul shrugged, embarrassment coating his features, “Yeah… Everyone in the family is.”

He refused to say more and, again, Maka didn’t pry.

The third and final time Maka heard about Wes was shortly after their adventure in the Book of Eibon. The events of the Envy chapter left some scars on both her and her weapon and it led to the biggest heart to heart Maka thought she and Soul have ever had.

She explained to him her insecurities as a meister and how she didn’t deserve Soul as her weapon (to which he replied with a snort and an affectionate pat on the head, “You’re so dumb sometimes. As if I’d want another partner…”). Soul, in turn, finally opened up about what he saw in the chapter.

“I was home.” He admitted to her, voice soft, eyes distant. “And my brother was there…”

He didn’t give her many details, but what he did tell her was enough for her heart to go out to her best friend. He told her about his family, his real name, and his inadequacies as a pianist.

“I felt like I was a shame to the family name, so after I found out I was a weapon…I decided to leave.”

Much as he hated it, Maka ended up crying for him, holding him in an embrace as she sniffled about how much Soul meant to her, how lucky she was to have him and how grateful she was she found a partner so cool. And that even though she didn’t understand _anything_ about the piano and music, she still loved hearing him play and thought he was _fantastic_.

It took some hesitation, but Soul returned the hug. Face inflamed and trying not to make an utter _sap_ of himself, he managed to thank her and asked her to please stop crying because it wasn’t cool at all. She gave a watery laugh before gently hitting him with her book.

During all of this, he revealed Wes and he still made contact, though he hadn’t talked to him for a while due to something that happened during their last conversation. Maka didn’t know what exactly happened, but she figured it must have been why Soul was in such a funk weeks before the Salvage mission. She had encouraged him to call his brother again—if he was up to it, of course. She knew he listened to her because his wavelength seemed lighter as of recently…

Now, in this current moment in time, she was here in her living room, Soul’s phone held to her ear, and the famous Wes Evans on the other line…

…Still patiently waiting for her to answer him, she might add.

“Oh! Yes! This is Soul’s phone, he’s just not here right now. He’s gone to get groceries because we were running low. Umm, this is Maka by the way! His, ummm, meister…?” She babbled, mentally hitting herself in the head for being flustered for no reason.

“So I’m finally being introduced to the famous Maka Albarn, huh?” Wes replied, sounding absolutely _giddy_ if Maka wasn’t mistaken, “I was hoping it’d be in person though instead of over the phone.”

Maka frowned. While she knew Soul and his brother talked pretty often, she wasn’t expecting him to sound so…warm? Actually, with the way Soul distanced himself from his family she was half-expecting Wes to be a pompous prick. Instead, she could tell by the tone of his voice he was genuinely happy to be talking to her.

“Yeah… Sorry, I just kind of answered his phone without really looking at who was calling. I thought it was one of our friends.”

“It’s fine, little meister. No harm, no foul.”

_Little meister…?_

“Since he’s not there right now—and he’d probably skirt around the truth anyway, knowing him—how is my brother doing?”

Maka contemplated her answer. She felt like she was invading Soul’s privacy by talking to his brother. But on the other hand…she _really_ wanted to know more about this life he supposedly ran away from. And the first step was getting to know his older brother.

“He’s fine. Things have been busy lately with missions and stuff.” She said, keeping conversation neutral.

“I see.” Wes said, as if he knew Maka would give such a vague answer. “How about a change of topic? How are _you_ doing, my dear?”

Maka blushed, “M-Me?”

“Yes, of course you!” Wes chuckled. “I do hope my little brother is treating you well. He can be a bit of handful at times.”

Maka giggled with him, “That’s true, he _is_ a handful. But I manage fine. A good ol’ Maka Chop puts him back in his place if he gets too much out of line.”

“Atta girl! You show him!” Wes encouraged and broke into an infectious laughter. Maka felt herself ease into their conversation.

They talked briefly, mostly about miniscule things that didn’t stray anywhere near the madness currently going on in the world. Wes asked what it was like to grow up in Death City while Maka asked what it was like being a famous violinist. Mostly, though, they talked about Soul.

“So has he said anything to you yet?”

Maka raised an eyebrow, “Huh? About what?”

She heard Wes scoff, “Of course he hasn’t, the chicken. One of these days I’m gonna sit him down and give him a good talking to about his intentions.”

For the first time since she started talking to Wes, Maka felt like she couldn’t follow along with his train of thought.

“I’m confused. What are you talking about?”

Her weapon’s older brother hummed in thought for a beat before replying, “No, I better not say anything. He’d kill me if I jumped the gun and revealed anything to you before he did. For now, I’ll just say my little brother has some… _things_ he might want to get off his chest soon. And he better do it fast before someone else beats him to it.”

O…kay?

“I guess I ended up missing Soul after all,” he changed topics. “I’ll try to call back in the next couple of days. Or, rather, you can just tell him I called and he can call me back when he can. Whatever works for him.”

“Uhh, sure. I can do that.” She said. She wasn’t sure what to do next. Maybe this was the part where they hung up?

“Maka, I must thank you.” Wes suddenly said, causing Maka to pause. “Thank you for taking such good care of my brother.”

Maka smiled, her cheeks warming.

“Of course. We’re partners. We take care of each other.”

“I know. I’m so glad he found you. He’s done so much better since you came into his life…”

Maka’s not quite sure how to respond to that. Just saying, “you’re welcome” didn’t seem like enough. She thought about asking him to elaborate more on his words when she heard the front door open. She whirled around to see her weapon carrying in many plastic bags of groceries.

“I’m back,” he said, kicking the door closed. “Sorry I’m late. Didn’t realize how much we didn’t have until…I…”

Soul trailed off as he took in the sight before him. There was his meister with his phone to her ear. That’s strange, who could she possibly be talking to—?

Soul’s eyes widened as it dawned on him just _who_ exactly would be calling his phone. _Oh shit!_

Just because Maka knew about Wes, it didn’t mean Soul wanted her to actually _talk_ to him just yet. Maka might say something embarrassing to his brother and add onto more fuel for the jackass to tease him about.

Or worse… His brother could tell Maka some _very private information_ that Soul _specifically_ told Wes to _never breathe out loud or so help him_ —

He hastily dropped all the bags as he made a mad rush to Maka.

“Who’re you talking to? Give me the phone!”

Maka squeaked as she scolded he partner, “Soul! The groceries!”

“Give me _the phone_!”

“Alright, alright, geez! Here!” she said tossing it to him as she went to assess the damage of their food.

With his phone in his hand, Soul put it to his ear as he hissed into the receiver, “ _What_ did you tell her?”

Wes laughed and Soul felt like making a one-way trip to Long Island just so he could punch his brother in the face.

“Chill out, little brother, we just talked.”

“ _About what?_ ”

“Oh, just…things.” He said, purposely sounding vague. Teasing his little brother was _such_ a fun pastime.

“I will fucking kill you.”

“Can you do it after you give me little nieces and nephews first?”

Wes’s cackles were loud and clear through the phone. Soul felt a blood vessel pop.

“GOOD _BYE_ WES!”

Wes said in between his laughter, “Bye…Soul!” another wheeze, and then, “Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed before hanging up.

“Your brother seems very nice.” Maka said, having put up all the groceries before coming to Soul’s side.

“More like fucking annoying…”

Despite his irked demeanor, Maka saw right through him. She didn’t miss that small upturn of his lips.

“But I can see that you guys obviously care about each other. Am I right?”

Soul eyed his meister, contemplating his answer before exhaling through his nose and giving her a lopsided smile.

“Yeah... He’s alright, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't include some more SoMa in this fic I just might've died.
> 
> Trivia:
> 
> 1\. I'm totally showing my age here, but does anyone remember when you could give custom ringtones for people in your contacts? I've never known of smartphones doing that (or at least I don't THINK they do?). This is me calling back to when I said my brain had forever immortalized the story of Soul Eater in the year 2009--therefore Soul's phone is actually a flip phone. Anyways...
> 
> 2\. Soul's personalized ringtone for his brother is that of a violin being played badly. He purposefully did it to piss Wes off. Wes is aware of it and does NOT think it's funny.
> 
> 3\. I only mentioned them briefly, and everyone should be aware of this anyways, but Crona is canonically genderless. Therefore, I'm using they/them pronouns. Hopefully it didn't get confusing.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Please review!


	8. Blame and Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who continues to support this fanfic! I appreciate you all!
> 
> Sorry to say, but we're going back to shorter chapters. As the story winds down, the less I feel Soul and Wes have to talk about. Hopefully you like it nonetheless.

**Timeline:** Before The Dark Side Of The Moon arc. Immediately after Maka confronts Crona in Italy.

* * *

Even though he, Maka, Black Star, and Tsubaki were dressed and prepared for the final battle on the moon, there was still something Soul felt he should do before they departed…

"Wait—"

"Oh for the love of _Lord Death, what_ could there _possibly_ be left to _do_?!" Black Star complained. Soul didn't exactly blame him. It seemed like they delayed the inevitable long enough.

"I just… There's something I have to do before we take off." He said, mostly addressing Maka. He knew she would understand the meaning behind his words.

Thankfully, his meister could read him well. Putting her hand on Soul's arm she nodded at him and gently whispered for only him to hear, "Take as much time as you need."

It was all the encouragement he needed before he took off to a nearby alley, ignoring the barrage of questions Black Star and Tsubaki were directing toward Maka about his behavior.

Once he settled against a brick wall, Soul fished his phone out of his pocket and proceeded to dial the familiar contact. He waited through a couple of rings before the smooth voice of his brother drifted from the speaker.

"Hello, Soul. This is quite the surprise. You're calling early this time around. How are you?"

"I'm fine. What's up?" Soul's tone was casual. He didn’t want his voice to betray the intentions of the upcoming conversation.

"Nothing much. Just sitting at home with a nice cup of tea. I'm enjoying the peace and quiet before it's time to leave for my tour."

He remembered Wes mentioning a couple of months ago that he was invited to partake in a lavish European tour with other prestigious musicians. Of course his parents were incredibly proud of their eldest son. Granny Evans even mentioned it a time or two in her letters to him. Soul admitted he felt that familiar twinge of jealousy (he knew something like that will never go away), but he also felt pride in his older brother. With his talents he deserved such a great honor.

"Cool." He said. He then took a deep breath. Now or never…

"Hey, listen…there's something I need to talk to you about."

Soul had a feeling that his brother could feel his tension as he warily asked, "What's wrong, Soul?"

"You remember the Kishin I told you about? Asura?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, a few weeks ago we found out where he has been hiding. Turns out he's been up on the moon this entire time."

Wes gasped, "The moon?! Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Damn." His brother whispered, his shock weighing his voice down.

"Yeah…" Soul agreed. That's how he felt after Maka revealed the news to him.

"So, I'm guessing this call is to tell me you're on your way to confront him…"

Right on the nose as always…

“Yep, it looks like it. There’s a friend of ours up there that needs a good ass kicking too. Maka’s determined to make it there and like hell I’m letting that reckless idiot go to the freaking moon without me to protect her.”

“Of course…” Wes chuckled, but it didn’t hold the usual teasing mirth it usually did. Soul frowned at that.

His older brother then heaved a sigh, “I know you’re going to piss and moan when I tell you this, but you better be careful up there.”

Soul allowed himself to smirk, "You wouldn't be a mother hen if you didn't worry about me."

Wes snorted, "I'm not a mother hen, I'm your _big brother_. I'm allowed to worry about your wellbeing."

Soul chuffed. His brother will never change.

For once both Evans brothers were silent as they listened to the other breathe over the phone. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward but the youngest brother felt somewhat stiff. This was the hardest part, getting to the real reason why he called, and Soul knew he couldn’t just brush his brother off like he had in the past. He had to make some sort of effort this time around. Wes deserved it after all those times Soul had been nothing but a brat to him.

Soul ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let out the tired sigh he was holding in. He wondered how he was going to go about telling his brother goodbye (and try not to indicate that it might be a _for real_ goodbye, should things go wrong), when Wes broke the silence.

"Soul? Before you go, I need to tell you something."

Soul raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you…" there was hesitation before Wes continued, more determined, "I _need_ to let you know how sorry I am."

Soul's eyes widened. This was not what he was expecting.

"Sorry? What are you sorry about?"

He almost wished he hadn't asked. He wasn't prepared for the sniffling he heard on the other end of the line.

"Aww, _Wes_ ," Soul couldn't help but whine, "don't cry!"

"I'm—" _sniff_ , "I'm sorry, I can't help it. I just…" _sniff_ , "I know the reason you're calling me is to tell me that this might be your last battle, and this might be our last phone call, so I just—" _wheeze_ , "I just had to let everything out before you…before you…"

"I'm going to be fine," he said automatically, though there wasn't a whole lot of conviction in his voice. He had faith in his meister, faith in his friends and his teachers, but there was always that _what if_ …

"I know you will be. You're strong. But on the off chance things _don't_ go fine, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't properly apologize to you."

"Wes, stop being stupid. You don't need to apologize—"

" _But I do!_ " he cried, "Soul, I'm not stupid! I _know_ why you decided to pursue a life as a demon scythe. You were always so closed off back home, and you rarely ever smiled. It didn't matter what I or Granny or our parents did, you were _never happy_! I can't help but feel like I'm to blame for it all!"

Soul stared in disbelief at the wall. He always thought his brother was overdramatic whenever he decided to get emotional with Soul, but this time was different. This was pure, raw, serious emotion that Soul couldn't make fun off or brush off.

"Not your fault…" he muttered, hating how awkward he was feeling.

"But it _is_ my fault! Everyone always singled me out and left you alone. You were always being berated and compared to me! It's because of me you—"

"No, it's not!" Soul cut him off. Even if Soul was envious of his brother, he never blamed Wes for anything. It's not like Wes _asked_ for Soul to be the more inferior musician of the family. That's just how things ended up. "It wasn't because of you I left. It was all me. I was petty…and jealous. I was so damn insecure that I let it blindside me. I wanted to leave because I was so sick of feeling lousy. I wanted to accomplish something that didn't involve dad, mom, Granny, _or_ you. I wanted to make something of myself. It's not you, Wes. It was _my_ decision, so _I'm_ the one to blame here."

"Soul…" Wes said, still sniffing but significantly calmer. "You shouldn't have had to feel that way. You really are a talented pianist. No matter what anyone else says, _I_ love your music."

Soul's breath hitched. He felt his eyes sting and fought with himself to keep it together. He didn't want to act like his uncool brother and let off the waterworks.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I know you do…thanks. It took a while, but I finally came to terms with my music—with my family. But the thing is, Wes, being an Evans is not who I am. It's a part of me, of course, but it's not what I was meant to do with my life. It's not who I'm _supposed_ to be. I was meant to be here, in Death City. I was always meant to be a weapon—to be a Death Scythe, not some lousy concert pianist. I actually _belong_ here...

"But that doesn't mean I'm gonna throw that part of myself away. I'm sick of running away from my past. I've accepted who I am. I'm not Soul Alister Evans anymore. My name is Soul 'Eater' Evans, a Death Scythe of Lord Death and Maka Albarn's weapon partner. I don't play the piano for the entertainment of an audience, but to fight kishin and witches and everything in between. I'm not going to hold back anymore. I’ve found the courage I’ve always lacked, and I'm gonna use it to go to the moon. I'm gonna help my meister kick that Kishin's sorry ass!"

Wes's warm laughter reverberated through the phone's speaker.

"That's my little brother. You go get that Kishin bastard!"

Soul let out a laugh of his own, his sharp-toothed grin gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.

"I'll give your regards to Granny, mother, and father," Wes said. "Goodbye, Soul. I'm so proud of you. Never forget that."

"Thanks, Wes. I'll talk to you soon. _I promise_."

"I know you will… Love you."

Soul nodded, mostly to himself more than his brother. His mind was made up. They were gonna win this final battle. He'll make sure of it!

"See ya!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Only one chapter left to go!
> 
> No trivia this time around.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos!


	9. Endings and New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! The last chapter! I've had so much fun writing this. I love exploring this side of Soul's character and his family. I hope you all enjoyed it too.
> 
> Without further delay, here's the last installment of this little series of mine!

**Timeline:** Post manga

* * *

Soul stared at his phone, mindlessly shifting it around from hand to hand.

It had been a crazy month. Asura had been defeated, Lord Death died, Kid became a full-fledged Death God (and thus the new headmaster of the DWMA as weird as that was), the witches were now their allies rather than their enemies, and Soul had been pronounced the “Last Death Scythe.”

It was almost surreal. Things were changing. _He_ had changed.

He was no longer that moody 12 year old whose only goal was to get away from his stuffy, high society lifestyle. He wasn’t that arrogant fool who chose some random chick as his meister because…well, why not? He finally felt he had a purpose now. He didn’t see Maka as someone he paired up with out of convenience anymore—she was his partner, his best friend, his confidant, and maybe his something more…

And the friends he made weren’t just people he happened to associate with from time to time. They actually _meant_ something to him…and he had come to realize _he_ meant something to _them_ too.

Soul remembered when he had discovered that bit of realization—the thought of having precious people who weren’t family overwhelmed him so much he actually thought he’d have a panic attack.

The people in Death City had changed Soul for the better. Instead of trying to be what he _thought_ was “cool,” he allowed himself to just _be_ —to just _live_. And not to sound like a lame afterschool special, but that was probably the coolest thing he had probably ever done.

He had grown to stop being afraid of who he once was. He was able to face his demons (some more literal than figurative), and move past all the insecurities that held him back. He wasn’t even afraid of playing the piano in front of others now. For the first time in a long time, Soul felt… _content_.

True, he still felt his self-esteem drop sometimes. There were some mental scars you just couldn’t heal. But he felt like he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore. He could be free. He could be _himself_.

There was just one last thing he felt he needed to do in order to come full-circle though…

Muscle memory had his fingers dial the number he knew by heart. He put the phone to his ear, hearing the hum of the ringer.

As always, the person he wanted to talk to picked up by the third ring.

“Soul! It’s good to hear from you.”

Soul smiled.

“Hey Wes.”

There wasn’t a lot Soul could say about the last 3 years of his phone calls to Wes. A lot of the time they were mundane, other times more emotional than Soul would have liked (he’ll continue to blame his brother’s dramatic flare for that). But in a way, Soul considered these monthly calls… _comforting_.

Wes was the tether to his old life. In the beginning Soul was reluctant to have Wes keep tabs on him because there was that lingering fear he’d spiral back into his old ways—closed off and reserved, never wanting to engage more than forced polite conversation, wishing _for once_ they’d see _Soul_ and not _Wes’s brother_.

But just like with the postcards he sent to his beloved grandmother, the calls became a routine. It didn’t matter what was currently going on in his hectic life-or-death lifestyle; didn’t matter how pissed off at his family he was and how much he didn’t want to speak to them ever again—Wes and his stupid phone calls managed to claw their way back to him.

It became apparent that the more he called Wes, the more at ease he felt. Maybe it was the lingering admiration he held for his brother—the one he wanted to impress with his piano music, who would check for monsters under the bed and sneak him extra deserts when no one was looking. Whatever it was, Soul found himself looking forward to their talks. Because no matter how posh or dramatic or annoying Wes was, he was still his big brother and Soul couldn’t deny he wouldn’t be able to go on without Wes’s presence.

It was a cheesy thing to admit, and Soul would rather _die_ than say it out loud (especially to Wes), but that’s how he felt.

“How’s it been?” Wes asked him.

“Kinda weird, but not in a bad way.” Soul said and continued to give his brother an update since their last call.

“I admit,” Wes sheepishly chuckled, “I was nervous when I noticed the moon being covered in some black stuff. I had to call Granny to keep me grounded so I wouldn’t fly off the handle.”

“Oh, wow.” Soul said drily, “Wes Evans _actually_ managed to keep a cool head long enough to wait for me to contact him _first_? It really _must_ have been the end of the world.”

“Oh, shut up. If it weren’t for you texting me that you were okay you’d probably have seen me on the front steps of the DWMA.”

Soul snorted, “Yeah, and Granny right at your heels chopping you with her cane trying to knock sense into you.”

They shared a laugh at that because it was true. When the laughter died down, there was a companionable silence as Soul shuffled from foot to foot. There was more to this conversation than just their usual pleasantries.

“Hey…” he started, “I know you’re on your tour, but when that’s done have you booked any other concerts?”

Wes hummed as he thought it over, “The tour ends in June and I know I’ve scheduled an appearance at this gala hosted in New York City, but that won’t be until late August. Mother and father have their usual parties but I’m not exactly _obligated_ to go to those now since…you know.”

Soul grunted in acknowledgement. He remembered that period of time when he refused to talk to Wes and the shock he felt when he later found out that not only had Wes moved out of the Evans Manor, but he had all but cut himself off from their parents. He only associated with them if and when necessary but he rarely ever made an appearance unless it was to visit Granny.

While he knew his brother cared about him, it wasn’t until that moment that Soul genuinely felt his brother was on his side.

“Cool, so you’ll be free sometime in the summer, right?” he asked, ready to move forward with his plan.

“Should be. Why do you ask?”

Soul tried not to feel embarrassed as he asked, “Well… Since it’ll be summer break and pre-kishin activity has lowered since Asura was defeated, I’ll be having a lot of free time. I was thinking that maybe…you’d want to clear your schedule and come down to Death City to visit?”

Soul held the phone away from his ear and winced in anticipation. Knowing Wes, the actions this request will lead to will either be tears or squeals of joy. Neither of which were cool…

Instead he was met with silence and Soul had to check to see if the line had disconnected.

“Uhh, Wes? Did you hear me?”

There was a sharp intake of breath as he heard his brother’s mystified voice, “Do… Do you mean that?”

Soul chuffed, “’Course I mean it. I want you to meet everyone. Besides, Maka would chop me to death if I didn’t finally introduce you two.”

He could tell Wes was holding back his emotions, could envision his older brother’s eyes tearing up and snot coming out of his nose. But of course, as always with Wes Evans, he’d manage to make the gross sobbing mess look attractive.

“I’d love to!” he finally screamed into the phone, “Let me get my calendar and make sure the week after my tour is clear. I’ll have to look through hotels in Death City to see what would be best—I know your and your little meister’s apartment is small and I wouldn’t want to intrude. You’ll have to show me _all the sites_ once I come down. And Maka _must_ accompany us as well. Don’t want to exclude the little darling. Maybe I should bring her a gift? She likes books right? Oh, and I’ll have to make sure the housekeeper knows to—“

“Hey, man, chill.” Soul told his brother, playfully rolling his eyes at Wes’s babbling, “There’ll be plenty of time to figure this stuff out. We still got time.”

Wes paused before letting out a cleansing breath.

“You’re right. There’ll be plenty of time.”

He could tell his brother had a peaceful smile on his face. He should know because Soul had the same one plastered on his.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta hang up now. We’re all going to go and hang out this afternoon.”

“I understand. We have rehearsals in an hour. I should be getting ready. Our performance is tomorrow night after all.”

“Break a leg.” Soul said, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Don’t sound like you actually _want_ that to happen!” Wes whined in mock irritation. Soul knew he wasn’t serious when Wes laughed afterwards.

“Bye Soul! I’ll talk to you soon. Love you!”

Soul gave a lopsided grin. His big brother could be _so uncool_.

But he wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Yeah… Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Wes really did burst into tears.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, and bookmarked this story. It really means a lot to me and I appreciate you all so much for the support! Hopefully you found this final installment enjoyable as well.
> 
> Thank you again. Please review. Have a nice day!


End file.
